


Abuelas And Mofongo

by Jathis



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Domestic, Fibro Cecil, Fluff, Food, M/M, Native American Cecil, POCecil, Trans Carlos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2078349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos cooks for Cecil and they have a little talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abuelas And Mofongo

“Carlos?” Cecil asked.

“Yes?”

Cecil pursed his lips, leaning on his cane for a moment before speaking up again, “what are you doing?”

“Making dinner,” Carlos answered simply, his eyes remaining focused on the task at hand.

Cecil frowned and watched as Carlos calmly used what looked like a mortar and pestle, making some kind of weird paste out of the funny looking green banana he had purchased at the grocery store that had spontaneously formed overnight. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked at him once again. “Um…are you sure it’s not a science experiment of some kind?”

“Cecil, I’m making mofongo,” Carlos explained.

“Mo-what?”

“Mofongo,” he repeated.

“Mo-Larry-Curly?” He giggled when Carlos slapped his arm for that, rubbing his arm lightly as he watched Carlos resume his work. The gems on his cane glittered in pure curiosity and he tilted his head to one side and then the other before he spoke up again. “So what is it?”

“My abuela used to make this for me whenever we came to visit her,” Carlos explained, “she was an amazing cook.”

“What happened to her?” Cecil asked, noting the way Carlos used the past tense for her.

“Cancer.”

Cecil’s shoulders fell at that, his gems glowing a dull light blue full of sadness and worry. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Carlos shook his head, offering Cecil a small smile of reassurance, calmly removing the masher and setting it aside, using his hands to scoop out the mixture, forming two half-ball shapes and setting them each on a plate. His attention was then turned to a pot on the stove, turning the heat off before opening the lid, filling the kitchen with the smell of freshly made rice and beans.

“Don’t be, she was suffering far too much. I just wish that when we asked her to teach us how to cook she actually wrote down the instructions…or used actual measurements besides ‘take some of this and this’.”

He laughed at the memory, shaking his head fondly as he added pink beans and yellow rice to the two plates. “She had always been a strong woman before the end,” he sighed. He perked up when he felt an arm around his middle, smiling at Cecil.

“If she was your grandmother…then she must have been an amazing woman,” Cecil whispered.

Carlos smiled, handing Cecil a plate and a fork. “Come on…it tastes better hot and not ice cold.”


End file.
